


Morning Sickness

by Todesengel



Category: Voltron: Lion Voltron
Genre: Crack, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-21
Updated: 2005-08-21
Packaged: 2017-10-23 04:22:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Todesengel/pseuds/Todesengel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tags say it all. Crack, pure and simple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning Sickness

At first it was just a little bit of nausea in the afternoons, which didn't mean much to Lotor since he was often a little nauseous in the afternoons, and he chalked the whole thing up as payment for enjoying himself too much the night before. Then he started to gain weight, which seemed to gather directly around his midsection and persisted despite all of his efforts at dieting and exercise. Then the weird food cravings hit, and the strange urge to get rid of all the things that had sharp corners and replace them with smooth, rounded equivalents thereof. It was at this point that Lotor began to seriously consider that something might be wrong with him, and took himself off to Haggar for a checkup.

Of course, by this time, it was already too late.

*

Zarkon was doing his second favorite thing in the universe -- watching people grovel in abject fear -- when Lotor came storming into the throne room, waving a piece of paper and flushed purple, Haggar trailing him and sporting a rather nasty looking bruise on her face.

"Why didn't you tell me!" he shrieked, voice well in a register it was not truly meant for.

Having not told his son about many things, Zarkon decided he needed to narrow down the scope of this particular conversation a little. "About what?"

" _This!_ " Lotor pulled up his shirt, exposing the small bulge that ruined the normally flat planes of his stomach. "I'm _pregnant_!"

"Oh thank god. I was afraid you'd _never_ get around this." Zarkon clapped his son on the shoulder. "This calls for a celebration! Who's the lucky man?"

"Celebration, my sainted mother!" Lotor grabbed the front of Zarkon's robe and shook him. _"Why didn't you tell me!"_

"You mean you hadn't figured it out?" Zarkon blinked, slowly, a sure sign of his surprise since Zarkon almost never blinked. "Where did you think babies came from? Meteor showers?"

"But. But. But. Females! And, wombs and menstruation!"

"That's only for mammals. Have you ever seen a native female on Doom?" Zarkon pried his clothes out of his son's fingers and _tsk_ ed over the creases. "Besides," he said as he tried to smooth his robe out, "didn't you ever wonder why none of your harem girls got pregnant."

"Well, I just assumed we had them all on some sort of oral contraceptive. I never..." Lotor trailed off and a peculiar look crossed his face -- one that was mostly horror but also contained some small measure of twisted fascination. "Wait. You mean. She's a." He turned to Haggar who smirked.

"Would you like to see for yourself?" she said, gripping the bottom of her robe and raising it just a little.

Lotor shuddered and turned away. "Please tell me that you and she -- he -- it; tell me Haggar's not my mother."

"Of course not. You know that the throne can only be passed directly from father to son. And how can I be your father if I didn't give birth to you?"

"Wha? Huh? Buh!" Lotor began to flail as his mind attempted to picture his father and another man and then retreated to a safe distance from the severe psychological trauma that image induced. "You. And? But. Human! Half-human!"

"Happiest two years of my life." Zarkon's eyes glazed over, a little, as he remembered those golden years. "Of course the bastard had to run off and get married to that bitch he had on Arus. Said he couldn't deal with the natural Doom urge to conquer planets while gestating. Said it was wrong to subject millions of people to slavery just because I was feeling hormonal." Zarkon shook himself and shrugged off the past. "Ah well. No use crying over escaped prey."

"Guh. But. Once! Okay, maybe three times. And. I'm a boy! I don't have the appropriate...exit...for a kid!" Lotor wailed as his sanity made one last ditch effort at attempting to shove the whole problem into the 'it's not really happening, someone just made a mistake' category.

"Hmm. Yes. Well. You do seem to be missing the birthing flap. Still, we can just cut the kid out when the time comes -- simple procedure, nothing to it, you'll be back on your feet within a week." Zarkon smiled and for the first time Lotor noticed just how many teeth his father had. "Now tell me. Who's your mate? I won't have my grandson raised without a second father, you know."

*

From one end to the next, across screen after screen, the Doom armada stretched, silent and deadly. The silence inside the Castle's control room was almost oppressive, signaling as it did the shear desperation of those watching the approaching fleet.

"I don't think even Voltron could handle this one," Hunk said in a near whisper. "How many of them are there?"

"Too many," Keith said. "What do you suppose he wants?"

As if summoned by Keith's question, the screens before the team flickered and the image of the Doom fleet was replaced by Lotor's scowling face.

"I'll make this brief," he said. "I've come for an exchange. A planet for a person."

"I'll never go with you!" Allura cried out.

"I didn't mean you, you idiot. I meant the man who did this--" and at that word, the angle widened until all of Lotor, and especially the peculiar bulge around his middle, could be seen "--to me."

"Huh," Lance said. "I thought he looked a little pudgier than normal. But what does your gluttony have to do with us?"

"I'm not fat!" Lotor shouted and then took a few deep breaths, slowly calming himself down. "I'm pregnant," he said at last.

"Oh shit," Keith said, and then blushed a little as his team rounded on him.

"Not him," Lotor said, clearly exasperated. "Please. He's a bigger queen than I am."

"Not true! It's just, I read up about your race and the last thing in the world this Universe needs is a nesting Doom prince." Keith crossed his arms and glared, a little defensively, at his still staring team. "Anyway, I wouldn't have had sex with him if I'd been getting some here."

"So if you..." Pidge looked around. "Then who?"

"Oh he knows who he is, don't you Sven." Lotor intensified his glare as Sven tried to pretend that his name was, in fact, Olaf and he'd never been anywhere near Doom, certainly nowhere near the vicinity of Lotor's bedchambers.

"Sven?" Allura looked first the pilot and then at Lotor. "But. What about Romelle?"

"Look, it was one night and it was well before I ever met Romelle anyway." Sven fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable with the turn of events. "I'm only human, okay? And besides, he threw me into the Pit of Skulls the next day."

"Of course I did. I couldn't have you blabbing to the other slaves about how I like it up the ass, now then could I?" Lotor sighed and rubbed his belly absently. "Of course it's all moot now, isn't it, since it seems the only way I can produce an heir is to lie back and think of empires." His one hand rested protectively over the bulge while the other tapped out a sharp six-eight time. "Now I can't go back until I've either got you with me or killed you -- don't ask -- and my back is killing me, so I really don't feel like make this a protracted issue. So. Sven for Arus. Deal?"

"Deal," Allura said.

"Allura!" Sven's protest was more of a squeak than an actual shriek, but either way it was decidedly not as manly as he might have wanted it to be.

"I've got a contract with GG that states I have the full and authorized support to employ your skills in any way, shape, or form necessary for the defense of Arus." She grinned, quite evilly. "I do hope you're not planning on wearing white at the wedding."

Sven groaned. He never should have left the monastery.


End file.
